I'm thinking of adding the refuse department to the friends and family section on my phone.
They'd probably rather I didn't.
I share a garden with my upstairs neighbour.
Being nocturnal and elusive, he has never been pro-active at clearing out rubbish.
So, with binbags rationed to three a fortnight, I was more than a little alarmed to see said neighbour's annual clearout frenzy climax with 28 bags and a splintered door.
This was a month ago.
And the bags are still squatting under the droopy conifers.
Twice three of the offending black bags have made it as far as the pavement.
Twice they have been rejected by the esteemed refuse department, and left to fester.
Twice I have rung and been told they are either too heavy - health and safety - or contain prohibited items.
Today, they were finally removed.
Today, these same three bags that had previously been rejected were apparently absolutely fine.
Today, mine took their place in the rejection line.
One hour later, following a particularly irate phone call, the lorry was forced to backtrack and remove them.
But not the 28 remaining squatters.
That's a battle for another day.
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